Because I wanted to tell you
by iCareAboutHim
Summary: Fundraiser at Babylon in S5 having a different outcome. There may be more to it than the eye spots. (drama, angst -yeh, but no tragedy).
1. Chapter 1

**I wanted to explore Brian's feelings regarding this possible outcome. But await for twists, more than one. I'm planning around at least 3 chapters, but will see how it goes. Rating T, possibly going M in later chapters.**

**A/N: Because I like to play with plots and mind tricks. **

* * *

He saw him. He was in his car, when he saw him just outside, in the street, hanging posters about the upcoming event.

It always left a heart-warming feeling when he saw him, after they separated. After Justin decided to move on with his life, since they didn't have any future staying together. When he started the conversation, Brian was already expecting what he would hear next, and when he did, he nearly choked inwardly on his words.

_"Time to find out."_

And when Justin walked in their bedroom, yes, theirs. Why could he say it, but nothing more? Nothing what was _needed_ to be said? Anyway, when he saw him putting on his jacket and then lifting his bag over his shoulder, Brian's heart skipped a dreadful beat.

_This was it. It was as long as this lasted._

He wanted to stop him. He almost did. Almost said something. Anything. Just to stop him. But then he knew that there was nothing he could possibly offer to him. He could ask him to stay, but he didn't have a good enough reason.

_Because he wanted him to stay._

Well, Justin grew up from that, and it was already not enough for only that. He wanted _a family._

And then he hugged him, his final goodbye intimacy and it was tearing Brian apart.

_Don't go. Don't go._

But he knew it was in vain. There was nothing he could do to stop him anymore.

_"Where would you go?"_ he asked. His attempt to hold him back, but Justin only responded like a mature adult that he would figure something out.

He broke free from the embrace, and stepped near the treshold and Brian heard himself saying._ "Let me know." Because I want to see you again._

Once _he_ left, he felt empty. The house was empty once again. And it just didn't feel right without him anymore. How did he manage to survive alone all those years it was beyond him. But he never told him that. Oh, no. Like he ever would.

Despite his nonchalant attitude, in an attempt to hide his misery towards others, he still got himself drunk. And the only place he could think of, was getting to that farce house.

Michael had infected him. If he wouldn't have gotten married and showed Justin visions of family, husband and babies, he wouldn't have left him. And he made sure Michael got the message. Only it backfired on him.

_"He left because of you!" _he shouted in his face and the words stung. Oh, they did.

So when he told Justin that he was off to get tanned and enjoy his fucking awesome life in that street at the night, he couldn't help feeling regret. And for a moment, he thought of giving in, grabbing him and kissing him fiercely. Telling him to come back home.

_But he didn't. _

Always a coward. And so he drew off.

He was already in the taxi, going to airport, when his world shattered.

He was sitting there, in the backseat, nonchalantly, putting his mind off from what he was leaving behind, only focusing on the road ahead, when the radio, that fucking radio broke loose.

"There has been an explosion at Babylon. A local gay club-" the words echoed in the taxi, piercing through his heart. "where political fundraiser was underway tonight. Authorities fear there may be injuries, possible fatalities."

He felt like he had just been shot. Explosion. At Babylon. At that fucking fundraiser event, where everyone was. Fucking everyone. _Justin._

He leaned in to the driver. "Turn around," he said firmly, his heart racing.

He dropped the magazine he was reading just moments ago and took his cell phone, dialling the number at once. There was a signal, but no answer.

_"Come on. Come on. Pick up." _He was desperately trying to calm himself down. There was a signal, so maybe it was not that big of a explosion as the police thought. He refused to think that he was not picking up because he was _not able to_ anymore.

He closed his eyes, furrowing his brows._ No no no. This was not happening to them again. God, no!_

_"Please... please, don't let anything happen to him."_

* * *

When the taxi was pulling closer to the scene, he felt his insides swirl more and more. From the commotion outside, firetrucks and crowds, which could not be looking good.

He briskly stepped out of the car and couldn't believe what he was seeing. The crowds, the wailing, the sirens, the bloodied people, the smoke,_ the loss._

He searched the crowd with his eyes frantically. The cries reaching his ears. Then he finally spotted a familiar face.

"Jennifer," he breathed. He half-ran to her side, who was wrapped in a blanket, her face smoky. "Jennifer."

"Oh, my God," she began.

"Are you alright?" Brian asked, concerned. He still couldn't believe what was happening. What the fuck happened, to begin with?

"Justin is still there. You gotta find him," she pleaded.

_He was still not out._

No no. This didn't meant anything happened to him. It didn't. It didn't.

He ran through the crowd towards the entrance, pushing the crowd away. He had to get there fast.

_Please. Please. Be safe._

There was still some unextinguished fire inside and smoke. But all Brian could see was darkness, shattered glasses. The legendary Pittsburg's gay club, reduced to this state... no wonder they said fatalities...

He felt a cold shiver go down his spine.

"Justin!" he yelled in desperation, covering his mouth from the smoke. The fireman tried to instruct everyone who were able to leave the place, but he heard nothing of it.

There was nothing. Just darkness, smoke and emptiness. Death.

He went further inside and saw pillars shattered to dust. The place was one big mess. It was in ruins.

"JUSTIN!" he yelled again. Where are you? Fuck. Where are you?

One of the firemen tried to get him out, but he shoved him away. He was beginning to cough, but he did not care.

Just as he saw a body being trasported towards the exit, he spotted Ted by the counter.

"Ted! Ted?" he lounged on him. "Ted! What the fuck happened!?" He grabbed him by the shoulders.

"I don't know," he said.

"Have you seen Justin?" he asked, his voice cracking at the end. Ted only shook his head silently.

He gulped and turned away. This didn't mean anything still. He can still be found. Alive!

As if on cue someone yelled. "He's not breathing. Somebody help me!"

He coughed from smoke. His vision filled with blood, burned bodies and wailing. He looked up, hearing the cracking sound and could only spot more bodies, more blood and more death. He covered his mouth with his both hands.

What the fuck is this?

How in the fucking world did this place manage to get into such a state only from a single day, while he was absent?

He walked further inside, some electricity going off in sparks and that's when he saw it.

His heart stopped for a moment and he would have fallen dead, if he was not desperate to get there fast.

Blonde head sprawled on the ground, body burred under a pillar.

"JUSTIN!" he yelled, running to his side. He knelt down and saw blood all over the place.

"No no no. You're not. You're not," he muttered, grabbing on the pillar. He soon found that his strength was no enough. He couldn't lift it. Damn it.

"In here!" he yelled. "Fuck. I need help!" he yelled. "TED! Someone, get the fuck here!"

He turned back towards the body of his Sunshine, which was ceasing to shine now. He was all bloody and smoky. He quickly reached his hand to check on his pulse and felt a stab in his gut.

"No no no no. Come on. Don't fuck with me." He made a strangled sound.

God! This couldn't be happening again. He couldn't lose him!

Moments later, Ted approached him together with a few other men.

"Oh, God," he exhaled.

"Don't fucking stand there! Lift the fucking thing up!" Brian yelled. "Lift it damn it!"

With great effort they managed to lift the pillar of. It revealed sharp piece of glass, piercing right in Justin's stomach. That was the source of all the blood. If anything could be called lucky, then it appeared that he was not crushed by the pillar, it must have been not directly on top of him.

He didn't know. And he didn't fucking care as long as Justin gonna be alright.

He cupped his face, his eyes filled with unshed tears. He couldn't bear to see him like that. With quivering lips he pressed his against his former partners, but lovers for life, that he knew now. "Don't leave me. Please. Wake up," he whispered, hovering against his lips, his eyes closed.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, rocking himself with his love's body in his grasp, when someone forcefully pulled him away from him, him yelling in protest, until he was pulled to senses that they had to get to him, if he wanted him to live.

They pushed his body inside the ambulance, Brian just outside the car. They tried to stop him from going inside.

"I'm not leaving him!" he yelled. "Get the fuck away from me!"

"I'm sorry, but only family-" the man began, when Michael, who apparently was there too, still standing, with some injuries, but none fatal it seemed, interruped.

"He's his partner. Let him in!" he informed them and with one last look at the devastated Brian's face, they let him inside.

Inside the ambulance, all hell gone loose. They somehow managed to get his pulse back one moment, but it was quickly fading. They needed to get him extra care and fast.

Brian had Justin's one hand into both of his near his forehead, grasping it for life. _"Come on. You can get through this. We gone past all that shit. You can't give up now. Please. Stay with me."_

* * *

Inside the hospital was one big chaos. The injuries caused by the explosion at Babylon, were numerous. Everyone who could help were on their feet, rushing about.

Brian held onto Justin's hand the whole trip to the emergency room, until the doors finally shut before his nose, leaving him helpless, waiting.

_Again._

He was alone. Waiting for the fate of his Sunshine once again.

Brian could feel his breath picking up, legs giving in. He had to sit down.

He somehow managed to stagger towards the seat. He pulled his head in his hands, harshly pulling his hair. _This was not how it was supposed to happen. He was not supposed to get hurt._

Not him. Not him. Please. Why the fuck him?

He was rocking himself in a shudder when he felt steps rushing towards him. It was not only one pair of steps. It was a whole lot. Everyone. Michael, Ben, Emmet, Debbie, Jennifer... everyone except _him._ Everyone except Justin, who was fighting for his life.

"How's he?" Jennifer asked in a quivering voice.

Brian could not open his mouth, he just shook his head.

"Christ, is he dead?" Debbie sobbed.

Brian shot his head up at that. "NO!" he yelled. Michael gasped at the dead-worried expression his best friend wore.

"Fuck," Brian cursed and put his head back into his hands.

_Don't take him away. Don't take him away._

It was all he could think about, when after who the hell knows how much time, it sure as hell felt like forever and half, the doctor emerged from the emergency room. The light of surgery shutting off.

"How's he?" Jennifer was first to ask. Brian jumped to his feet at once too. He couldn't voice his concerns, though. His throat felt strangled.

"Is this the family of Justin Taylor?" the doctor asked.

"We sure as hell are," Debbie stepped in. "Is Sunshine going to be alright?"

The doctor looked warily at the group. "We did everything we could. I'm sorry. He didn't make it."

_He didn't make it._

Brian shook his head in disbelief. _What the fuck was he talking about?_ "The fuck are you saying?" he rounded on the man, grabbing him by his lapels. "He was breathing! I saw him breathing! Don't fuck with me!" he yelled in the man's face.

"I'm sorry," the man only said. Brian could hear Jennifer's devastation and it seemed she fainted or nearly fainted, but despite his usual concerns, he didn't pay attention to anything besides the door in front of him.

He tried to push himself inside. "You can't get inside.," the doctor tried to stop him, but was harshly pushed away.

The view, which greeted Brian, crushed his heart to million of pieces. The sound...

The piercing sound, indicating the stop of the heart echoed inside the room and the young man laying on the surgery table being covered with a white sheet falling on his face.

Brian stood there, mouth agape, nearly falling backwards, his whole face pale.

_This was not real. It just couldn't be real._

It was like his whole body shut off. He could feel strong arms pushing him away from the room, dragging him outside in the waiting hall. Back to the chaos, back to the wailing. Away from his most important person.

Everyone was crushed. They didn't know what to do. How to react. Only Debbie and Jennifer managed to let it all out. Others were either stunned or supporting each other.

Brian was on complete shut down, when Michael approached him, because he had to get to him. Even if he as hell didn't know what to even begin to say.

As soon as he opened his mouth, Brian held his hand up, shushing him. "Don't. Just don't," he breathed and turned around, walking away from the scene.

* * *

He roamed down the corridors, aimlessly. He had no goal, no aim, just to get away. Where? He did no know. Frankly speaking, he didn't know anything anymore. For all he knew, this was a fucking farce! Not real!

_There was no way in hell Justin was dead!_

"I'm sorry. We couldn't save him." Words echoing from somewhere to the side of the corridor, followed by cries.

And he couldn't take it anymore. The repetition felt like a confirmation to him. The words sunking in.

It was hard to breath, fuck, he didn't want to breath. He just wanted it to go away. This feeling, this nightmare to go away.

He slumped on the doorway, leaning in, his whole body shaking.

_How in the world had his world lost meaning in less than twenty four hours?_

* * *

_**to be continued...**_


	2. Chapter 2

The first shudder should have been a warning sign enough, but with Brian's head not working properly at the moment, caused by the recent, not so pleasant events, he could hardly care to come to a stop and think. If he did, he may have at least spared himself some of the humiliation.

It was dark in the night, when he walked through the alley, going to his one goal - Babylon. Then he remembered that he could not get there anymore... The pain in his chest was beginning to rise again, but he managed to brush it off. He could just choose another club. Whatever. He continued his way towards his second choice goal. He hoped to find his release there, whether it be mental or psychical. He didn't care. He just needed to get it off with.

He took a shower before he went and got into a neat outfit, but he still felt like shit. He needed someone to reconfirm him that he was still the legendary Brian Kinney. Just as his nerves were about to snap about ever reaching the club, the inviting light of the name appeared before his eyes.

"Aah," he exhaled, a drunk smile on his face. Which he was not as much yet. The leftovers from yesterday and the day before and before were still felt, but today he was yet to seriously get on with it.

"Good evening, Mister Kinney," the guard greeted him. The guard knew him as an owner of Babylon. Now, sadly owner of the ruins.

"Fabulous," Brian smiled at the man, patting his shoulder and letting himself in.

The loud music greeted him and he could feel something twist in him. Maybe getting into such a crowd was not what he wanted all that much. He managed to shake those thoughts away, when he remembered his goal. He only had to get his hands on a hot stud and he would forget all about the background sounds. Including his own inner voices. Which could certainly shut up right about now.

He made his way in the middle of the hall and began his search. There were dozen to choose from and at the same time zero. The nagging feeling in his stomach that somehow nobody seemed to look appealing could have played as yet another warning. But he didn't want to give up that easily. So he made his way to one of the studs, which he knew was his type and whispered in his ear the magical words.

As expected, the man was more than willing to take his offer up and followed Brian into the backroom without any reluctance. Just as Brian stepped inside, another warning sign came up. Hot, sweaty bodies and moaning echoing all around the place, made him feel nothing.

He decided to dismiss it once again.

He was starting to feel anxious. He grabbed his prey forcefully and walked them to the wall, shoving him to his knees. Just a moment longer and he would find his so needed release. It all would end soon.

The man started unzipping his pants and Brian was trying to even out his breathing. The fuck very well must have mistaken it as an excited anticipation, but in truth Brian was trying hard to concentrate and _feel_ something. Not to mention he was trying to get _hard. _

He rested his head on the wall, swallowing, waiting for the world to fade in. Just then he felt the fuck grab his cock in his one hand and reaching out with his mouth to do the job, when all hell gone loose.

The moment his tongue descended on his manhood, Brian felt such a strong wave of repellent, that he literally shoved the fucker away from him. Him falling on the ground on his ass.

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed.

And Brian could only swallow and turn around. "Fuck off, you used your teeth," he said flatly, even if none of it was true.

"Fuck you," the man said and stood up, getting out of the backroom.

Brian stood there by the wall with his self still out in the open and couldn't guess what just happened. So he decided to go till the end. As soon as another hot guy appeared in the backroom (accompanied by his own partner), Brian directed the two of them to come do the job on him.

The both did not protest at all, and both descended on him.

To Brian's horror, not only did the same thing happen again, but it was even worse. He felt like he was having nausea.

"That's enough," he breathed and tucked his limp body part in.

He could feel the group's eyes darted upon him, as he exited the place, and he couldn't be more ready than to leave this cursed club. He stumbled outside almost unsteadily, breathing in the night's air.

He felt like he was gonna puke. The gut wrenching feeling in his stomach was unbearable. He came here to get this over with, but now what? He was repellent towards sex? That was impossible. It must have been a malfunction (which made him grimace horribly for even having to use such a fucking word on himself).

He swayed through the dark alleys and with each step it was getting harder and harder to breath.

_He couldn't get away from this._

He tried doing that after the... prom, but it was not working this time at all. Honestly, it was backfiring.

The circumstances were different. His feelings were different.

He inhaled sharply as pain filled his lungs, his mouth half agape. No no no, he couldn't think about it now. Not ever again. Not after all was over.

He staggered and leaned on the nearby wall, getting his breath back.

It was getting right back at him. The misery, the pain. It was attached to him like glue and this time not getting away. He tried to use his same escape plan like the last time and failed. As they say, _Same trick doesn't work twice._

He chuckled darkly, furrowing his brows, seconds later.

Same tricks doesn't work twice and he was someone to stand by it. Unless, you're Justin. His Justin. Who was his and could have been, if ONLY he would have told him! At least those little words, which were burning in his chest for way too long to be let out, but he just didn't have the courage to do that. And look where they stood now. Now not only he wouldn't be able to tell him, but he_ couldn't_!

He lost his chance forever and for what? For lack of courage to accept such deep feelings? Well, now he can be glad to have his courage all for himself as it was clear, talking to the dead was not marked on his schedule.

"GOD!" he let out a strangled yell, burying his face in the cold brick.

* * *

That's when he decided to give up on trying to help himself. He might as well suffer himself to his grave.

So he established his new routine. No longer wandering trough the streets, he made his place one big bar for fulfilling every possible need he might have regarding either drugs or alcohol. There were rows of bottles and pockets, more than his place ever had.

He was up for the experiment.

He would get high till he couldn't stand properly anymore and then collapse on the floor, resting his head on the side of the couch. Repeating the experiment every single day just with adding one more bottle and one more pocket as days went by. As the week passed through, he was amazed how much his body could handle on. He was somehow hoping to shut off sooner.

But guess, God was against him in this aspect of his life too. Never failing to torture him.

He got calls from his work, his family, friends in his answering machine, but all was ignored. Everyone knew what happened and let him off quite easily. _The only good thing. _

Everyone but a certain being. He should have known that Mikey would barge in, uninvited, sooner or later.

Brian was just having one of his "parties" - swirling around in circles with a bottle and a smoke in his other hand, some crappy music going in the background and him singing or babbling something along, when the doors opened.

"Oh my God, Brian!" Michael exclaimed.

"Mikey!" Brian exclaimed. "Glad to have you join the party! Didn't take you long to come!" he sneered.

"Fucking Christ, what is all this?" he exclaimed, looking around the "disaster in the loft".

"I thought..." Brian began, pacing unsteadily on his feet, almost falling. "That _I_ would redecorate. Don't you like it?"

"Brian, for God's sake you got to stop this. You're.. a freaking mess!" Mikey appeared to stand only a few feet away from him.

"Tell me something new," Brian sang, inhaling some more of his smoke and then exhaling with his head titled.

"You could have called me. I would have been there for you," Michael said.

"The one you are for, Michael," Brian began, pointing the cigarette at him. "IS your wife _and_ kid. So why don't you get your fucking ass back at your home and leave mee the fuck alone!"

"Brian, you need help," Michael said softly.

"The fuck I do." Brian laughed, walking to the side. "I am fabulous in all and everything." He turned around, announcing it with a drunk smile. "But maybe, you could give me a hand at getting off, eh Mikey? Your wife wouldn't have to know."

"What are you talking about?" Michael said in a tired voice.

"What I AM talking about is... Is that I can't get hard!" he exclaimed, smiling.

Michael shook his head. "It's not really the time for you to get hard."

"Bullshit, Michael,." He grimaced. "It is exactly the time to get hard. But it's not fucking working! It' been forever already. Fuck it. I don't even have what to fuck." He laughed.

Michael stood there, glancing at his best friend. If he thought that his state was bad enough, when Justin got bashed, then this was beyond anything he had seen. Brian Kinney was one long mess. Hell, his self was not even present. But mostly of all.. it was like he had lost his will to live. He would do drugs and alcohol for release, but this time it was like he was purposely trying to overdose.

He swallowed. "How much have you taken? It's more than you can handle. Would you please stop it now?" He approached Brian, placing his hand on his chest.

"You're not my fucking mother, Michael!" Brian exploded, getting away from Michael, dropping his smoke on the floor.

"I know you're hurt," Michael continued.

"I'm not hurt," Brian intervened sarcastically.

"I know. We all are," Michael said. "But you have got to accept that he's gone."

Brian could feel his muscles clench in his whole body. He wrinkled his forehead, gripping the bottle more fiercely.

"And he's not coming back. You have to let Justin go."

The moment his name rolled off Michael's tongue, Brian snapped. "Fuck you, Michael!" he exclaimed and threw the bottle hard into the wall, it falling to pieces.

He gripped his head in his hands, bending over, staggering backwards. Michael came to rub his back. He wanted to help his friend, but there was nothing he could do. The pain was unbearable, he knew, and although him and Justin were not the same as Michael and Ben, he knew that despite his denial, Brian's love for the boy was nothing less. And having lost the chance to express it, was probably eating him all the more. The regret.

But he couldn't let him shut off. He had to accept the fate.

Brian slumped on the ground, tiredly, his mouth agape, eyes unfocused. Michael sat near him, rubbing his back in soothing motions. He saw one tear, then another roll down his friend's face.

Pain pain. It was hard to breath for him. He closed his eyes, banging his head on the side of the couch, trying to shut it all down.

"Fuck," Brian began muttering. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck it!" he yelled, grabbing one of Michael's hands in a death grip. He could care less about breaking his fingers, but Mikey never protested anyway.

* * *

For that one moment, Michael stayed there with Brian, seemingly supporting him as much as he could, but he still left after a few hours, when he saw that the broked man really needed to be left alone.

He didn't visit him for the next week, for once honouring his privacy, but he did call every day. He managed to convince Brian to send him a text message every day that he was alive.

True to his words, Brian did just that. He would send Mikey only two words. "Still alive."

The week went by, with Brian taking considerably less toxins, but still not failing to do so. Only that he would spend a lot more time just sitting there, on the floor, watching nothing in particular. As days went by, music ceased to play too. He let himself fall into a silent trance.

He was in one of those moods, when suddenly the door to his loft, clattered and came open two weeks later after the doomsday.

He could hear reluctant steps getting inside the house and he couldn't be bothered to chase them away. He didn't care much anymore.

He looked up from the floor just to see blonde head before his eyes.

"Fuck," he could only say. He closed his eyes, his brows furrowed.

"Brian," the figure said, slowly walking into the loft.

"Fuck," Brian repeated, his face twisted in pain. He sighed heavily, while standing up, not looking into the visitor's side at all, avoiding it like plague. He was sore in all places of his body, he was beyond exhaustion. He thought that at some point of time he would cease to feel, but it never came. With each get up from the floor, when he tried to get some more alcohol, he could barely stand the aching body. Most of all - his heart, which was burning in hell.

The only hope he was betting on, was heart-attack. If he tried long enough and hard enough, he may just be able to achieve it. Eventually.

He could feel the presence of the other in the place, and he felt sick. It never stopped haunting him.

"I," the voice began. "I know this is sudden..."

"Fuck," Brian cursed under his breath, as he made his way to the counter, leaning on it heavily with his elbows.

"Look," the voice breathed. "I didn't know... I would have-"

"Fuck this!" Brian yelled, bending in on the counter, his head almost on it. "Why do you keep coming back?" he asked in such a strangled voice that it hurt.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! WHY?" He had his head in his hands.

"Brian, this is not what it seems like-" the voice began once again.

"It sure as hell is not!" Brian yelled, pulling himself off the counter. "Because if it was MY decision to hear what I want to for the past two weeks, which would be NOTHING, then you wouldn't be here!" He inhaled sharply. "If you came to torture me, help yourself out!" He extended his hands to his sides, in invitation. "But can I ask for a break? For let's say... A fucking one day!? Because I'm tired!" he yelled and turned around, walking further into the room.

"Brian, I got to tell you something-"

"That you are dead!" Brian shouted, turning around. "I know that! I saw it!" he yelled. He stared at the pained expression of his Sunshine for a moment, taking in all his features. He looked so alive. Well, he always was in his hallucinations.

"Brian-" the ghost Justin began.

"Shut the fuck up!" Brian yelled harshly. "Zip yourself up! I don't want to hear any of it anymore!" He rounded on the boy in a few long leaps. "It's my fucking brain, so it's ME who will decide _who_ and _what_ to hear." He stopped to look in the boy's face, his own face twisted with pain, unbearable grief. He began shaking, staggering backwards, his gaze turned sideways. "Get out of my head," he said flatly.

"Brian, I'm not in your head," the voice said.

"Of course, you're not. You're projecting yourself out in the open. Haunting me over and over again." He swayed to the sides a bit, his expression blank. "Well, there's nothing I can do now." He raised his eyebrows nonchalantly, his mouth half agape. "There's no way for me to get you fucking back!" His hand shot up in his hair, tugging on them harshly, his eyes pressed tightly shut. "Christ!" He was desperately trying to not break down, but he saw it coming. It was near, very near.

"I don't know how to do this," the voice said. "Frankly speaking, I was as lost as you are. So I'll be blunt-"

He was talking. He or it, should we call it. The voice. Never leaving, showing him how much of a regret he had. How he failed to stop him from leaving, failed to be there with him. By his side on that fateful night. Maybe if he was there with him then...

And then his whole body shuddered. A wave of electricity gone through him, when he felt something. Yes, he FELT it. It...was a touch.

His hand fell from his hair, hanging in the mid air, his eyes wide in disbelief of what just happened. How in the world did he manage to feel something warm on his shoulder? Did his hallucinations improve that much? Was he reaching the peak? Finally?

But then he heard... "Brian, I'm really here. You're not imagining it."

* * *

_**to be continued...**_

**I hope this explains the no tragedy thing. Don't worry, the next chapter will explain what the hell is going on.**


End file.
